


The Other Arrangement

by CiaraK_1996



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Explicit Consent, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Going to Hell, Hell, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Torture, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, Past Sexual Abuse, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, True Love, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 07:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20756933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiaraK_1996/pseuds/CiaraK_1996
Summary: Crowley was numb and that surprised him. If his imagination had been cruel enough to think of something as vile as Gabriel fucking Aziraphale over a table, he would have expected his reaction to be blinding, red-hot rage. Instead, he felt like he was floating, barely conscious, and so terribly cold. He stumbled around London mindlessly, eventually, a part of him realised he was in shock, but he still couldn’t shake it. He tried making himself angry, tried to feel something to snap him out of his trance, but all he felt was cold hard nothing. He did not notice the sun go down, nor did he notice the sun come back up.Suddenly he was outside Aziraphale’s bookshop and it felt like he had not seen it in centuries. He quickly glanced at his phone to check the date; it had been less than 24 hours and he was not sure if that was better or worse than having been in shock for a few decades. He took a deep breath and opened the door with shaking hands.





	The Other Arrangement

A part of Aziraphale had hoped these visits were over after the world did not end. This was, of course, foolish optimism. After he averted the apocalypse and failed to die, Gabriel visited even more frequently.

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale greeted stiffly, “Sandalphon.”

“Traitor,” Sandalphon sneered and then proceeded to shelter the bookshop for the human gaze. There was an unfortunate incident in 1897 when a police officer looked through the window and tried to arrest them. The fact that Aziraphale had a cunt made matters worse and Gabriel was forced to work several miracles to resolve the situation he created. They had used protection ever since.

“Back again so soon?” Aziraphale asked lightly, he knew Gabriel hated small talk during these visits, but he was becoming almost irritated at these frequent demands. In the past a decade or two could pass between visits, this was the third visit this week and it was only Thursday.

Gabriel smiled, “Don’t act as if you don’t enjoy this Aziraphale.”

“Where do you want me?” Aziraphale asked calmly, ignoring his comment entirely.

“Table should do,” Gabriel often did this; ground floor where Aziraphale could see people walking past, sometimes even knock at the door and peer through the windows to see if the shop was open. Every time, it terrified Aziraphale, every time he wondered if they could see. Additionally, Gabriel almost always made him mess up the books, whether he would make him cum over them or throw them on the floor, it didn’t matter; Gabriel was seeking dominance, not just using his heavenly authority, but by tainting even the mundane things Aziraphale loved like his precious books.

Aziraphale had tried tidying the books away in 1831, but for that Gabriel fucked him until he came twice and had Sandalphon throw those books in the fire for good measure. Aziraphale looked at the display table and shoved the books unceremoniously onto the floor and began taking off his trousers; he was not permitted miracles during these visits.

He lay across the table and splayed his legs to reveal his pussy to Gabriel, secretly Aziraphale always performed one miracle the second he saw them; he manifested a cunt between his legs instead of his usual penis, and he would make sure he was wet. Gabriel had taken Aziraphale by surprise a few times and it was dreadfully uncomfortable, and for some reason, Gabriel was always happiest when Aziraphale was wet and ready for him. It didn’t last quite so long when Gabriel was happy.

“Oops,” Gabriel sighed, approaching Aziraphale and brushing over the bruises he had left on his hips and arse the last time, “I was a little rough the other day.”

Aziraphale said nothing, he had nothing to say.

“But you want me,” Gabriel growled, Aziraphale could hear him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly, “You want my marks all over you. You want me inside you.”

Aziraphale remained silent. He hadn’t vanished the marks because he knew Gabriel would be displeased with him if he did.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Gabriel hushed, “I know.”

Gabriel pushed inside and began fucking him, hard. Over the past 200 years Aziraphale had been forced to repair this table, the bookshelf in the North-East corner, his desk, and his bed upstairs countless times due to Gabriel being a little too enthusiastic in his domination. Aziraphale groaned as he desperately tried to relax and stretch for the Archangel, and Gabriel chuckled, always mistaking those sounds for pleasure. Gabriel pounded into Aziraphale until he began to feel the familiar pleasurable pressure building inside his lower belly. Aziraphale often had his eyes closed, he hated seeing the humans outside, he hated seeing Sandalphon looking on smugly. Sandalphon was not always present, but he had been with Gabriel during every visit since the failed apocalypse and Aziraphale had silently accepted this as the new norm.

Gabriel shifted angle slightly and moaned as he worked faster to reach his climax. He usually did not care if Aziraphale climaxed, but Aziraphale found him to be in a better mood if he did. Aziraphale scrunched up his face, trying to seek out that pressure and release it, it always took a few attempts and often a daydream or two, but he figured out he could trick himself into an orgasm if he needed to. Sometimes he couldn’t help it and that made him feel worse. He opened his eyes to see where Sandalphon was, if his back was turned it meant Gabriel was about to cum.

Instead Aziraphale’s gaze fell on the window beside the front door and his heart stopped. Crowley was staring through the window. He had seen potential customers gazing in, but they usually shrugged and walked away. Crowley’s mouth was open, downturned, even behind his dark sunglasses, Aziraphale knew he could see.

Aziraphale moaned in despair, everything was over now. And Gabriel chuckled again, “Yes, Aziraphale… cum for me.”

Aziraphale could not look away, and neither could Crowley apparently. Fear gripped him, there were two Archangels and Aziraphale was in no position to protect Crowley if they attacked. He should look away, avoid drawing attention to the demon frozen in shock outside. But he couldn’t, and his mind wandered to the idea of Crowley fucking him like this and he came.

“Until next time,” Gabriel said bluntly, fixing his clothes and leaving his spill inside the Principality. They both vanished and Aziraphale glanced back towards the window and Crowley was gone too. He cleaned himself up, made himself a cup of tea and sat down. Hours passed before he finally allowed himself to cry.

*** * ***

Crowley was numb and that surprised him. If his imagination had been cruel enough to think of something as vile as Gabriel fucking Aziraphale over a table, he would have expected his reaction to be blinding, red-hot rage. Instead he felt like he was floating, barely conscious, and so terribly cold. He stumbled around London mindlessly, eventually a part of him realised he was in shock, but he still couldn’t shake it. He tried making himself angry, tried to feel something to snap him out of his trance, but all he felt was cold hard nothing. He did not notice the sun go down, nor did he notice the sun come back up.

Suddenly he was outside Aziraphale’s bookshop and it felt like he had not seen it in centuries. He quickly glanced at his phone to check the date; it had been less than 24 hours and he was not sure if that was better or worse than having been in shock for a few decades. He took a deep breath and opened the door with shaking hands.

“Aziraphale?” He called quietly, his voice was weak and unsteady, he cleared his throat and tried again, “Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale shuffled into view, his arms full of books looking almost normal, “Oh, hello. We’re closed today. Did you want something?”

“Angel…” Crowley’s voice broke and he saw Aziraphale’s stiffen facing away from him while he returned books to their shelves. Crowley glanced at the table which was piled high with old books again, “Angel we need to talk.”

“Oh? What about?” Aziraphale asked lightly, failing to meet his gaze.

Crowley sighed and removed his sunglasses, “About yesterday.”

Aziraphale made no indication of stopping until he saw Crowley’s eyes and dropped the last couple books he was holding, “Very well.”

Crowley stared at him, unable to find any words as the angel stared at him expectantly.

Aziraphale shifted slightly, “Perhaps we should sit down.”

Crowley found himself glancing at the table and felt sick.

“How about the back room?” Aziraphale offered, “We’ve never done it in there. He can smell you.”

Crowley frowned and followed him anyway and sat down on the sofa opposite Aziraphale.

Crowley’s mind was someone void and swarming with thoughts at the same time, “What do you mean _smell_ me?”

“He senses the corruption,” Aziraphale muttered, “I’m afraid I’m so used to you around I tend not to notice. He does. I usually blame it on some dubious books.”

Crowley nodded, it made sense after all that his scent would be strongest in here as opposed to the rest of the shop. He pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking about what he was to say, “Do you love him?”

Aziraphale almost laughed, but not with joy, “Love has nothing to do with it.”

“What is it to do with?” Crowley asked, trying desperately to stop his heart from breaking.

“It’s just sex,” Aziraphale stated bluntly. Crowley should have been glad the angel was being honest with him, but his brutality crushed him.

“When?”

“What?”

Crowley clenched and unclenched his fists, “When did this start? Since you betrayed Heaven? Since before we met? When?”

Aziraphale sighed, “1800.”

“Why?”

Aziraphale seemed to struggle for an answer, “Um, dominance, I guess.”

“D-dominance?” Crowley stammered, his face distorted with disgust, “Did…”

Aziraphale watched him struggle for a moment, but Crowley couldn’t say the words just yet, trying desperately to dismiss his assumptions, “Was it because you did not return to Heaven? In 1800?”

“Why would that matter?” Aziraphale asked in bemusement, clearly this was not the question he had been expecting.

Crowley felt the first ripples of anger blooming in his blood, but his voice broke with heartbreak, “Because… I persuaded Gabriel to make you stay…”

Aziraphale wanted to reach out and comfort him, but now was not the time for sentiment and pity, “How did you manage that?”

“I…” Crowley took a deep breath, “I followed the three of you to that tailors. I made sure Gabriel ‘overheard’ me in the alleyway outside, apparently conversing with another demon and rejoicing at Heaven’s stupidity at removing my adversary. Simple psychology; if a demon is happy, it must be bad.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale nodded, “I had wondered what made them change their minds. A nice thought, but no, it was a little before that.”

Crowley was not sure if that was better or worse; it was good to know that this was not somehow his fault, but then the question of ‘why’ still clouded is mind. Crowley swallowed his bile, he had to know, “Is it consensual?”

Aziraphale sat there stiff and unmoving and Crowley felt fear and anger surging through his body.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said sternly, “Did you consent?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to respond, but no words came, and his lips trembled. Crowley suddenly propelled himself from the sofa and wrapped his arms around the angel. It was difficult, Aziraphale sat as if made of stone and Crowley melted against him, Crowley was not sure if he was comforting Aziraphale or himself and settled for both.

“There’s a word for that angel,” Crowley whispered, “And those that commit it are not even welcome in Hell. Demons are to tempt but can _never_ go that far.”

“I never said no…” Aziraphale breathed, barely audible.

“That’s not consent, angel,” Crowley whispered, his throat dry and uncomfortable. He could feel the tears stinging his eyes, he could feel his heartbreaking, he could feel the shockwave of Aziraphale’s emotional walls falling.

“Don’t you want to know if I enjoyed it?” Aziraphale asked coldly after a few moments, he remained stiff and unmoving as Crowley clung to him.

“No…” Crowley breathed, tears falling, “I know everything I need to know.”

“I didn’t,” Aziraphale whispered.

“I’ll kill him,” Crowley sobbed, clinging to the angel. Part of him thought he should move away, give Aziraphale space after all he had endured, but mostly he never wanted to let the angel go, he wanted to protect him and show him how much he cared.

Aziraphale pulled him closer and buried his face in the crook of the demon’s neck, breathing in the smell of brimstone and cinnamon he found there. He had been so sickeningly terrified that Crowley would never speak to him again that he had barely considered that he would return to him with open arms. He let the scent of him comfort him, let himself feel the love pulsing off the demon, he let himself melt against him and find his home in his embrace. Crowley usually hid his love, not always very well, but Aziraphale could feel it being repressed, choked and buried alive, but now he could feel it being unleashed as Crowley clung to him and Aziraphale found himself gasping for air as his love swamped him.

“Are you alright?” Crowley asked softly.

“I’m fine,” Aziraphale gasped, “More than fine. How have you survived hiding this much love?”

He opened his eyes to see Crowley blushing, and beamed at him, “I- um… I got used to it.”

Aziraphale could not stop smiling, knowing Crowley loved him was on thing, but being repressed and denied hurt, but being loved was beyond amazing, “I could never love Gabriel.”

The hurt returned to Crowley’s eyes, and for a moment Aziraphale realised that it was not the mention of Gabriel that upset him but the subject of love. Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s face tenderly, “Because I am far too deeply in love with you.”

Crowley made a heart-felt and wordless sound and crumpled against him. He wrapped his arms around the angel’s waist and lay his head on his lap, beating out pulses of love while trying to hide his pain. Aziraphale ran his fingers through his hair and sighed contentedly. He watched the sun come back up before he decided to move, Crowley groaned and grumbled but hushed when Aziraphale pulled him towards the sofa and lay down with him in his arms. Crowley nestled against the angel’s warmth, burying his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale stroked his spine and hummed as he breathed in Crowley’s scent and lightly kissed his hair.

Every now and then Crowley would shift slightly and grumble a quiet “I love you.” Aziraphale wondered if he was sleeping and wondered if he could follow him into his blissful dreams. The sun had long since departed again when Crowley rolled his hips against him and he shuddered.

“Crap!” Crowley cursed, suddenly awake and ashamed, “Sorry, angel.”

“Don’t be,” He sighed, pulling Crowley back into his arms, “I love you.”

“I won’t hurt you,” Crowley whispered against his neck, he desperately wanted to kiss him, taste him, but after everything Gabriel had done to his angel, he could never bring himself to cross that line.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, cupping Crowley’s face and gently wiping a tear from his cheek, “I love you.”

The kiss was sweet and innocent and _oh_-so perfect. Crowley melted against him, seeking out his warmth and love, Aziraphale held him tightly, desperately and hopelessly lost in his embrace. Crowley let Aziraphale kiss him, taking anything the angel offered and nothing more, he found his mind hatefully returning to Gabriel and found himself thinking about what the Archangel had done with the love of his life.

“We never kissed,” Aziraphale murmured, as if reading his mind, “It was never about love, nor did either of us pretend it was. I never loved him. I never kissed him. I never wanted him.”

Crowley nodded slowly and buried his face against Aziraphale’s neck, trying to calm himself and force the Archangel from his mind.

“I want you,” Aziraphale breathed, kissing Crowley’s crown, “Sometimes I’d pretend and… I almost enjoyed it.”

Crowley felt sick and clung to his angel, “He’ll never touch you again. I won’t let him. You should have told me centuries ago, angel.”

“I know,” Aziraphale murmured, “I was scared. Scared as to what you would think of me.”

Crowley leaned back to look into Aziraphale’s beautiful eyes, “What medieval misogynistic crap is this? What I _think_? I think you’ve been abused, and I failed to protect you. I’m thinking of ways I can torture and destroy _him_ in the most satisfyingly painful ways possible! I can’t believe you could even think, let alone suggest, that I could ever judge _you_ for what someone else did to you!”

Aziraphale was crying again, but the gentle smile on his lips betrayed his love, “I’m sorry. I… I will never doubt you again, I promise.”

“Good,” Crowley snapped at him, and crashed into Aziraphale to show both his love and hurt at his words, “I love you, and nothing can ever change that. You told me it was over once; said you forgave me for wanting to run away. I could never leave you. I didn’t. I thought and wasted time before Hell found out about Warlock, then I went straight back to you. After I killed Ligur and trapped Hastur… I ran right back… but you were gone.”

Aziraphale was hushing him and running his fingers through his hair as he cried.

“I feared you were dead,” Crowley sobbed, “Not just discorporated, but hellfire. But the worst thought was that you had _left_ me, gone back to Heaven and the fire was simply a by-product of your absence. And I _still_ didn’t leave.”

“You were crying,” Aziraphale murmured, “I could hear it in your voice.”

“You couldn’t see me, could you?” Crowley asked and Aziraphale shook his head, “I was getting absolutely wasted in a bar. Waiting for the end or for Hell to find me.”

“I found you instead,” Aziraphale sighed, “I’m sorry. I hoped I could stop the war. I lit the candles to speak to God, she didn’t take my call, Metatron did… he gave me the same speech; _we need the war to win the war_. That was when I called you. I shouldn’t have lied about Adam, but I… I had a little faith and that’s all gone now. Now I’m just scared of falling.”

“You won’t fall.” Crowley stated simply.

“How do you know?” Aziraphale asked, slightly indignant at the assumption.

“You need to be sinful to fall,” Crowley answered plainly, “Not sure why Gabriel hasn’t.”

“I’ve sinned,” Aziraphale muttered.

“Collecting books is barely Greed, angel,” Crowley sighed, “And you do not eat to excess.”

“Eating at all is excessive for us,” Aziraphale protested, he felt the knot in the pit of his stomach twist, “And what about…”

“Have you not been listening?” Crowley hissed, “Things done to you can never be sins, it doesn’t stick to the soul. Gabriel should have fallen though.”

“But I’ve…” He couldn’t say it, he never enjoyed his visits from Gabriel, but that did not always mean his body would not be stimulated to a climax.

Crowley seemed to read his mind, “Sex is natural. If every person who has ever had sex or masturbated went to Hell, then Heaven would be empty. Even good holy-men and women have pleasured themselves at some point in their lives. Climaxing is essential to reproduction, you taught me that.”

“Unicorns,” Aziraphale nodded, “You were terribly upset.”

“Exactly,” Crowley murmured, annoyed with the interruption, “Climaxing is not always consensual; it's biological. Some people can push your buttons. Even enjoying sex is not a sin, just lust.”

“What’s the difference?” Aziraphale puzzled.

“Lust is sexual desire, for some people sex is just sex with no real desire or love,” Crowley explained freely, “It mostly depends on the _why_. Most people have sex as part of love, and love is a virtue. In most cases, the love outweighs the lust. Very few people go to Hell for lust; rapists and serial adulterers mostly. Prostitutes usually come to us for drug abuse and other sins, even the Whore of Babylon only came to us because of her wrath and pride, she had lovers and truly loved every single one of them. The majority of souls in Hell are there because of their pride, violence, and greed. Very few come to us for lust, gluttony, and laziness alone. Envy is really the wrong word, outright jealousy is better, and usually, that sin is paired with wrath and greed. Lust is a sin but enjoying sex with someone you trust is not.”

“What did you mean earlier, about demons not being allowed to go ‘that far’?” Aziraphale asked quietly.

Crowley sighed, “We don’t like rapists, they’re selfish and malicious. Violent people at least have their uses. Should a demon be found guilty of rape, it is thrown into the deepest pit for everyone’s safety. We tempt and torment to fight virtues and sow seeds on sin; rape does not accomplish this. It damages the soul but cannot corrupt it. Therefore, it has no use to us, and it is simply considered a risk to public safety.”

“I didn’t know that,” Aziraphale murmured, “Some humans seem to think Hell is some satanic orgy.”

“I think there might be some orgies; I don’t get invited to those sorts of parties,” Crowley chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, “But they’re consensual. Who do you think invented the rules and safe words? Lust is encouraged, it is a sin, but the only sin committed in rape is by the perpetrator. Gabriel should have fallen over two centuries ago.”

“It doesn’t matter, my dear,” Aziraphale hushed, kissing Crowley’s forehead, “All that matters now, is that I love you and you love me.”

“Of course, I love you,” Crowley sighed leaning into his soft, warm body, “I’ve been yours since you first smiled at me.”

“Eden?” Aziraphale smiled, glowing gently.

Crowley smiled up at him, “Of course, have you seen your smile? You put my stars to shame.”

“I love your stars,” Aziraphale pouted, kissing Crowley’s nose, “Almost as much as I love you.”

Crowley was kissing him again, everywhere, Aziraphale shuddered and gasped as he littered kisses along his jaw and down his neck. Crowley slowed, scared of moving too fast with someone so fragile, but Aziraphale whimpered and pulled him closer.

“Darling, I want you,” He sighed, clutching at him, “Please…”

“Are you sure?” Crowley said hesitantly, “I’m going to need you to be explicit with me. What do you want?”

Aziraphale blushed and bit his lip, “I’d… I’d quite like to fuck you actually. I think I’d like it better with a penis.”

Crowley smiled, “Anything you want, angel.”

“What about you?” Aziraphale murmured, kissing Crowley’s neck, tasting him.

“I just want you,” Crowley sighed, “However you want me. But I need to know something first.”

“Hm?” Aziraphale hummed.

“Why?”

Aziraphale stopped, “Why what?”

“Why do you want to fuck me?” Crowley asked a little too harshly, but he needed to know.

Aziraphale sighed, “Perhaps I used the wrong word, my dear. I want to make love to you. I understand your hesitation and you can always say no, I will never force myself on you. I just… I just want to be close to you, to be inside you. I love you and I want to share that.”

“You don’t need sex for that,” Crowley whispered, very aware of how wet he was.

Aziraphale shifted, holding himself above Crowley and kissed him, rolling his pelvis against his bony hip, “I could lie here with you forever… I just want to feel you.”

Crowley wriggled and removed his shirt before pulling Aziraphale’s mouth back to his own, “I love you, never forget that. Just tell me to stop.”

“I will,” Aziraphale promised, “But only if I want you to.”

“Ah,” Crowley groaned, tugging at Aziraphale’s ancient clothes. Aziraphale sat up and started fiddling with his belt, but Crowley stayed his hands, “I want to see you.”

Aziraphale stopped and his heart fell slightly, “I’m fat.”

Crowley sat up instantly, “I love you. I love your soft curves and gentle lines. I want to see you, please.”

Aziraphale smiled, almost to himself, feeling Crowley’s pure love and admiration. He slowly popped the buttons on his shirt and remove his layers, feeling Crowley’s gaze upon him.

“Oh, God you’re gorgeous!” Crowley prayed and pulled him closer, digging his fingertips into his flesh and kissing his nipple.

“I can’t believe you just prayed,” Aziraphale sighed.

“You’re divine,” Crowley gasped, moving his lips to the other nipple, “She needs to know that.”

They kissed for hours, giggling and holding one another. The best part about being immortal was you could honestly spend forever doing something. Aziraphale and Crowley embraced and muttered soft affections, gradually losing more clothing until they found themselves entangled in each other’s arms wearing nothing but their underwear in the light of the third day since Crowley learned the truth. Crowley looked at the angel looming above him and smiled, watching the wave of his lovemaking Aziraphale blush and smile shyly.

Crowley gulped, doubting himself, he knew sex was not a sin, but he would never watch Aziraphale fall, especially not for the likes of him. Aziraphale was placing delicate kisses along his neck, shoulders, and arms; he felt like he was being blessed and could not care less if he were suddenly drenched in holy water.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked with pink, kiss-swollen lips, as his deft finger played with the elastic of his pants.

“Hm?” Crowley moaned.

“I love you,” He whispered as his fingers slid beneath the fabric, and gasped as he felt how utterly soaked the demon was beneath him, “Oh, heavens…”

Crowley would have protested at the word, but at that very moment Aziraphale gently pinched his clit and he screamed in ecstasy.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Aziraphale squeaked, retracting his hand.

Crowley eyes glazed over, suddenly very aware of the pleasure he had been ignoring, “Please… more…”

Aziraphale kissed him as he slid his hand back between Crowley’s legs, smiling with every shudder and every involuntary cry of affection.

“Do you want me?” Aziraphale breathed, nibbling at Crowley’s ear.

“Yes… please…” Crowley gasped and shuddered as Aziraphale fondled him.

“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered, teasing him.

Crowley gasped, feeling a climax approaching. He snapped his fingers and rid them of their underwear and pulled Aziraphale into a desperate kiss, “Please make love to me.”

Aziraphale smiled and wriggled into position and pushed ever so carefully inside. Gabriel had always been in such a rush, but Aziraphale wanted to savour the pure euphoria on Crowley’s face. Crowley cried out with every inch of his angel, clinging to him, kissing and nibbling anything he could reach. Aziraphale leaned back down, kissing Crowley face, neck and mouth, as he moved in and out of him.

Aziraphale moved so heavenly slowly it was almost sinful, “Angel… ah! Could you please move faster?”

Aziraphale nibbled his bottom lip, “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

He thrusted his hips with a bit more force and groaned gutturally and Crowley cried out. Crowley found himself using a small miracle to delay his orgasm, he wanted to cum with Aziraphale and not before. However, the miracle seemed rather ineffective and he came anyway, “ZIRA!”

Aziraphale slowed to almost a complete stop.

“Don’t you dare,” Crowley gasped, “I need you.”

Aziraphale started moving again, groaning and moaning against Crowley’s skin, “I love you so much.”

Crowley could feel the pleasure building inside him again and wondered how much overstimulation he could take, but then again, he was more than willing to find out. He pulled against the sofa, and his head fell back over the arm of it, offered his neck out to Aziraphale who sucked, nibbled, and kissed it dutifully. Crowley could barely keep his eyes open, but when he did, he saw someone standing in the doorway.

Gabriel.

At first there was panic, but then Crowley saw something in the sight of the upside-down archangel, and suddenly everything fell into place. It had only ever been about power, and for some reason power was not a sin. Power was often fuelled by pride and greed, but what of power for the sake of power? Crowley smirked, looking at Gabriel who was watching Aziraphale fuck him muttering sweet confessions, utterly oblivious to the archangel’s presence. Crowley could see it now; he could see the anger coursing through Gabriel’s body, the envy trembling on his lips, the greed and gluttony in his eyes, the wounded pride he had always denied. Crowley grinned, baring his teeth, feeling his lover inside him and watching his lover’s tormentor condemn himself. Crowley didn’t have to raise a finger as he saw the evidence of Gabriel’s lust pressing against his trousers, the sloth in his inability to move or do anything.

“Crowley, I love you!” Aziraphale moaned, his thrusts becoming erratic and frantic.

Crowley was still smiling while Aziraphale fucked him with frenzied force, and he lost control again, screaming and crying out in ecstasy. He closed his eyes and for a moment feared Gabriel would do something while he was distracted. Aziraphale slowed to an unbelievably gentle pace, fucking him more deliberately and gently, making Crowley’s skin tingle and shimmer with sweat. He forced himself to open his eyes again, losing control as Aziraphale made love to him. Gabriel had not moved. He looked back at Aziraphale who was giving Gabriel a worrisome glance, and then looked down at Crowley.

Crowley cupped his jaw, trying to pull him into a kiss, “Angel, I love you.”

Aziraphale hesitated, and glanced back at Gabriel, “Go to hell.”

Crowley cried out as Aziraphale pushed back inside him, his fingers clawed at the angel’s fresh as he came inside him. Crowley became vaguely aware of the smell of brimstone in the air and pushed up against Aziraphale, forcing himself onto his lap and riding him, looking into his perfect eyes for any signs of falling, but all he saw was an angel literally glowing with love. Crowley manifested his wings to protect him from the black pitch and magma that spluttered and hissed as Gabriel fell into damnation behind them, riding out their orgasms.

“That felt amazing,” Aziraphale gasped, clinging to the demon on his lap as he softened inside him.

“Damning an archangel to hell? I’m sure it did,” Crowley teased, watching the celestial light dim but not quite vanish from Aziraphale’s bright curls.

“I meant loving you,” Aziraphale frowned, looking at Crowley with worry and anxiety.

“Angel,” Crowley sighed as his dismounted him lover, “I’m going to be glowing for weeks. Although you appear to be _actually_ glowing… which is unbelievably captivating.”

Aziraphale smiled and blushed, glowing a little more than before. He glanced over Crowley’s shoulder, “He just couldn’t help himself, could he? He just had to ruin my floor on the way down.”

Crowley glance over his shoulder and laughed, there was a patch of smouldering cinders where Gabriel has been standing, “Perhaps it’s time for some redecorating.”

Aziraphale beamed until Crowley wondered where he had put his sunglasses, “We should probably start with throwing out that ugly table.”

**Author's Note:**

> Epilogue  
“What in Satan’s name do you want, Crawley?” Dagon growled down the phone.  
Crowley winced and checked Aziraphale was not within hearing, “You should have a new recruit. A fallen angel.”  
Silence. “Oh?”  
“Yeah, this one needs special treatment,” Crowley hissed under his breath.  
“Why?” Dagon huffed, clearly annoyed with how long this phone call had been, “Did you send it down?”  
“Not exactly,” Crowley admitted, it was probably the first time he had told his superiors the truth, “This one thinks it’s acceptable to rape angels.”  
There was a long pause.  
“Who is the recruit?” Dagon asked bluntly.  
“Gabriel.” Crowley sneered, hating the name, he wondered what his demonic name wound be and prayed to God and Satan it was suitably awful.  
There was another long silence, “We thank you for your testimony. Azazel will enjoy interrogating him.  
Crowley ended the call and smiled with satisfaction. Azazel was the worst interrogator they had; he would never ask anything, simply torture until his victims sang like canaries, and then tortured them some more as punishment. Every demon in Hell and Earth feared what happened to those guilty of rape and maliciously pointless torment (pointless meaning in did nothing to secure souls for Hell - Azazel was only permitted to torment those already considered guilty of the most heinous crimes, his only uses were finding your darkest secrets and punishment).  
Crowley tossed the phone, content with the knowledge that Gabriel could never hurt Aziraphale again. He turned towards the bathroom, listening to Aziraphale humming in the shower. It took him a moment to realise that the light was not on and that Aziraphale was simply glowing with pure untamed joy. Crowley did not care that the brilliant light stung his eyes, he would keep his angel glowing, like so many of his stars for as long as he could.


End file.
